


That Gun is Loaded (But it's Not in My Hand)

by Taste_is_Sweet



Series: Soldiers of Fire and Shadows [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Crossover, Gaslighting, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hydra are dicks, Protective Bucky Barnes, So is Stick, so does Illya, the russian crossover no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet
Summary: Stick finding Matt Murdock was never a coincidence.(The chair finally stops and the headpieces retract. Illya's screams turn into gulping sobs as he trembles from the aftershocks. At least now they can hear themselves think.Pierce slides a braille-labeled file folder across the table, 'cause he's all about the fucking drama. "Illya was supposed to carry out this mission, but he failed." Pierce's voice is full of contempt, but Stick already got that memo, thanks, and as far as he's concerned it's Hydra's fault if Illya's too soft to do what's necessary. Stick did his best, but it's not like the kid grew up in a vacuum. "The mission's changed. Matthew Murdock is no longer a target. We're going to train him.""You realized he's more powerful than you thought, so you want me to make him into a good little Summer Soldier for you." Stick closes the folder and slides it to the side. "What's in it for me?")





	That Gun is Loaded (But it's Not in My Hand)

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song [Red Hands](https://youtu.be/Zk6UOWzuRzI) by Walk off the Earth.
> 
> This story fills the **Assault** square of my [Hurt/Comfort Bingo](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/) [Card](http://taste-is-sweet.livejournal.com/99391.html).

"When the hell is that kid going to finally shut up?" Naturally Garrett's the first one to bitch.

"It won't be long now. The procedure is almost finished," Pierce says. Stick doesn't need to see to know his smile is just as smug and unctuous as the rest of him. The fact that he has to raise his voice above Illya's bewildered screaming doesn't seem to bother him, but Pierce's pulse is tapping like restless fingers under his skin. The noise is getting to him too, and not just 'cause it's fucking loud. Pierce doesn't like that the Soldier in the chair is in a shit-ton of pain. Pierce brought them all here to show off his little fiefdom, make sure they all know which one of them has the world's most dangerous assassins by the short and curlies. Problem is, Pierce can dish it out but he can't take it. He doesn't mind hurting them, but he really minds having to witness it.

Spineless asshole. Pierce likes to play tough, likes to pretend Hydra is something he can actually control. Truth is, he's just as soft as the rest of them. When the war comes—the real war, not Hydra's 'peace everyone deserves' bullshit—Pierce'll be face down in the dirt like everyone else who thinks power is the same thing as position.

"Better not've undone all my training," Stick says.

"Oh, we're very careful about making sure they keep the useful information," Pierce says. Illya gives another howl like he's underscoring the point. The noise is bad, but it's not nearly as bad as the stench coming from Illya's stress and pain. Stick can literally taste it, and it's disgusting.

Not that anyone except Brock knows just how truly keen Stick's senses are. Pierce would try to use it to his advantage, and then Stick would have to kill him. He doesn't want to do that just yet. Stick may hate Pierce's guts, but he's useful.

Garret and his little protégé Ward are sitting on Pierce's right. Stick can hear all his cyborg attachments creaking whenever he moves, and the occasional static-y fizz of yet another component breaking down. They got their damn golden goose Asset and his metal arm _right there_ and Garrett's still using that knockoff Cybertek shit. Weak, sentimental bullshit, though what really chaps Stick's ass is how Garrett is coddling the boy sitting next to him. Grant Ward is nine fucking years old and he's sniffling like a toddler and Garrett hasn't told him to buck the hell up once. Stick would've hit him by now, given him something real to cry about 'stead of screams that aren't doing anything to him at all.

Garrett cares about the kid too much, that's the problem. Weakness and sentiment; Hydra's stuffed full of it.

Honestly, the only Hydra agent sitting at this plastic folding table in this fucking bank vault worth a damn is Brock Rumlow. Brock understands strength. He understands that a war requires sacrifice and that sentiment is a sop for the damned. He's about the only one of the kids Stick trained who does. Him and Elektra. Too bad the Serum barely worked on him. He can soak up damage like a sponge and he's a little stronger than most and he heals fast, but other than that the only thing he got is the same batshit crazy as the rest of them. The difference is that Brock likes his anger; isn't afraid of it; knows how to use it. Stick taught him that.

Brock's just 20 years old, but he's already one of Pierce's favorites. He'll go far, that kid. Stick's proud of him. Best part is, Brock is imbedded in Hydra like a parasite, sucking up everything he can. But when the War comes, he knows who's side he's really on. And it ain't Pierce's.

Stick knocks Brock's ankle under the table with the tip of his cane, then smiles blandly when he hears Brock's head turn to look at him. Brock's smirk is lost to everyone but Stick under the noise.

"All right, Alex, you've brought us here and made us listen to your damn horror show. How 'bout you get to the point?" Garrett says. "Stop sniveling. You're embarrassing both of us," he snaps at the boy. "You're a damn Summer Soldier, start acting like it."

Ward's fingers slap at his face as he dashes the tears out of his eyes. "Yessir. Sorry, sir." He shifts, sits up straight and puts his hands in his lap. Stick snorts to himself. Like posture means a damn thing.

Pierce doesn't answer right away, so Stick knows he's giving them all another one of his smiles. "I thought you all would want to hear the news in person. The Asset just came back from Kurdistan. His mission was a complete success. Our government is convinced that Iraq is responsible, and they're going to launch an attack on their southern air defenses."

"More instability. La-de-dah," Stick says. "Nothing to do with me."

"On the contrary, it has a great deal to do with you." Pierce slides a braille-labeled file folder across the table, 'cause he's all about the fucking drama. "Illya was supposed to carry out this mission, but he failed." Pierce's voice is full of contempt, but Stick already got that memo, thanks, and as far as he's concerned it's Hydra's fault if Illya's too soft to do what's necessary. Stick did his best, but it's not like the kid grew up in a vacuum. "The Asset was our backup, but he wasn't available because of his mission in Kurdistan."

"Why didn't you send Rumlow? He would've done it without all the blubbering."

"I was on a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission," Brock says, veiled disgust in his voice. "I'll kill him now." His shirt rubs over his skin when he shrugs. "Just say the word. 'Won't bother me."

Ward makes an unhappy little noise and his heart kicks up like a rabbit, the pussy. He doesn't even know who the target is. If he can't handle the idea of killing now, there's no hope for him. Barely a whiff of the Serum from him either. Brock reeks compared to him. Hell, Illya's scent fills up the entire damn building. But if Ward is enhanced enough to so much as heal faster Stick will be surprised. He should be put down, before he goes nuts and it comes back to bite Hydra in the ass. Too bad Garrett's not man enough to do it.

"Your loyalty to Hydra is appreciated as always," Pierce says to Brock. "But I wanted you all here because the mission's changed. Matthew Murdock is no longer a target. We're going to train him."

"Come on," Garrett groans. "You brought us all the way down here…" He points his thumb over his shoulder at Illya. "Then made us listen to _his_ fucking screaming for the last hour, and all just to tell us that? Why the fuck didn't you send an email?" He glances at Stick. "Or do this over the phone?"

"Because I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the head of Hydra. And Fury's been sniffing around for the last five years looking for a mole, ever since Stark's parents died. I'm not going to risk everything we've been working toward for your _convenience_ , John."

Stick ignores whatever Garrett grouses in return as he reads the info packet. Matt Murdock definitely has a gift, if the description of his 'illness' is true and not just the product of some hysterical nun's imagination. "You realized he's more powerful than you thought, so you want me to make him into a good little Summer Soldier for you." He closes the folder and slides it to the side. "What's in it for me?"

"Besides aiding Hydra's vision to achieve real peace in the world?" Pierce asks mildly. Stick supposes he should be quaking in his boots. He'll get right on that.

Stick smiles blandly at him. "Vision isn't really my strong suit." 

The chair _finally_ stops and the headpieces retract. Illya's screams turn into gulping sobs as he trembles from the aftershocks. At least now they can hear themselves think.

"Thank fucking God," Garrett sighs. "You don't need Stick, Alex. If he doesn't want Murdock, I'll train him." Half Garrett's body clanks with the expansive spread of his hands. "Put the kid out in the wilderness. He lives or he dies, no big deal."

"Oh! Oh!" Ward leans forward, all excited. "We could train together! Could you please take him, Mr. Garrett?"

Garrett casually smacks the kid's cheek with his knuckles. "Did I ask you a question?" His voice is just as mild as Pierce's was, but Ward's terrified.

"Nosir! You didn't. I'm sorry!" he blurts. "I just thought—"

"I don't give a shit what you think, boy," Garrett snaps. Ward shuts up immediately, so at least he's learned that much. Garrett points to the other side of the room. "You see him? You see what happened to him? You heard him screaming, right?"

Stick sure as hell heard it. Illya's still in the chair, shivering with tears running down his face. Stick can taste them, but Illya's barely conscious, way too out of it to realize how badly he's embarrassing himself.

Ward nods frantically.

"Well, he had a lot to 'think' about too." Garrett says the word like it's an insult. "He thought he didn't have to carry out his mission. That's what we do with Soldiers who think too much and don't do what they're told. Do you want to end up like him?"

Ward shakes his head so quickly Stick can hear the fluid in his ears rolling like waves. "N-no, Sir. I don't."

"Good. That's what I like to hear." Garrett whaps Ward on the shoulder a few times, then cuffs him playfully on the back of his head. "So sit still and shut the fuck up."

"Yessir," Ward mumbles. He clasps his hands in his lap and looks at his knees.

"Thank you for offering, John," Pierce says, just ingratiatingly enough that Stick's sure Garrett can hear the 'I don't give a shit what you want' underneath. "But Stick's abilities are a far better match for someone with young Murdock's emerging talents."

"Damn right," Stick says. He leans back in his chair with his cane across his lap. "And since I'm the only one who can train him, I want to know: what's in it for me?"

Pierce takes a deep, slow breath. He hates it when he doesn't get his way. He's frustrated as hell right now, but his only choices are to kill Murdock, let Murdock finish going nuts and end up attracting unwanted attention, or give Stick whatever he wants and get some use out of the kid. "What would you like to be in it for you?"

"Give him to me. I'll train him up, make him into the kind of Soldier you want for your war. But only if I get to use him for mine first. Once I'm done with him, you can have him back." Stick grins. "Hell, I'll even giftwrap him for you."

Brock's smirk is almost silent, just like the creaking noise of Pierce clenching his jaw. "What if he doesn't survive your vendetta?"

Stick tilts his head. "That's just the risk you'll have to take."

"It's worth it, Director, to get someone else on our side with Stick's abilities," Brock says. "And Murdock will be expertly trained and ready to fight. He and Ward are almost the same age. If you partner them up, they'll be unstoppable."

That's doubtful when it comes to Ward, but Brock said it just to stroke Garrett's ego. "You know? I think Brock's right, Alex," Garrett says, because he's a gullible, egotistical asswipe and Brock's fucking smart. "I mean, who are the other Soldiers? One who's so erratic he has to be wiped and refrozen every couple days, and that one." He points to Illya again. "Our 'golden boy'"—Stick can fucking _hear_ the air quotes—"who can't even carry out a simple mission. We need fresh blood. Ward's got potential, but he's just one kid."

Stick knocks Brock's ankle with his cane again. Brock is definitely a good kid. Stick made the right choice with that one. Reminds him of Elektra.

Now, Murdock and _Elektra_ …. Yeah. _That_ has potential.

Pierce is pissed that a couple subordinates are telling him what to do, but the way he's breathing means he's going to cave. "You've all made valid points," he says, trying to sound like he's happy about it. "All right." He gives Stick a firm nod. "Matthew Murdock is yours. For the time being."

 _The time being_. Well, that will suit Stick just fine.

"Thanks." He's about to stand up, since he got what he came for so as far as he's concerned the meeting's over. Except....

Except someone's coming. He can hear a set of steady, tiny clinking noises, and slightly louder ones, timed with the solid thumping of a heavy, well-armed man's footsteps and a faint mechanical whirring. Buckled straps and holstered weapons. And then Stick is hit with the same coppery, ozone scent he's been around so long he recognizes it as well as his own. Brock smells like that. So does Ward, though barely. Illya reeks of it, especially after being in the chair so goddamn long. But even then it's not as powerful as the Soldier stalking his way into the vault.

Seems like the Asset's coming home just a little bit too early. Oops.

Stick gets up, taps Brock again with a single, sharp thwack that Brock will know means the shit's about to hit the fan.

Brock rockets to his feet, kicking the chair back to give himself room. He pulls his gun. "Get Grant out of here," he orders Garrett.

To his credit, even with half of his body aftermarket cyborg shit, Garrett moves pretty fast. Ward's too scared to do much except try to ask what's going on, but Garrett just scoops him up and takes him to the safest place in the room. There isn't much of one, considering they're in a fucking _vault_ , but Garrett does his best, putting the kid behind him and pulling his own weapon like he's really gonna defend Ward with his life. Not bad. It'd make more sense if Ward were actually _useful_ , but…not bad.

"What the hell's going on?" Pierce stands as well. He doesn't have a weapon, 'cause he's an idiot, but he's trained well enough to know not to just sit there and gape when it's clear something bad is happening.

"The Asset's early," Stick tells him, then listens to the blood draining from the head of Hydra's face.

Stick draws his sword, but leaves the tip pointed down. He knows when the Asset comes in, followed by his handler and the other three members of the team he went out with. The Asset's tired, hungry and in pain. He's lurching a little every few steps, and his clothes smell like ashes. He doesn't glance at the little impromptu meeting set up around the fucking plastic table like a church barbeque, but that's only because he's too smart to be so obvious. Stick knows the Asset noticed, just like he knows that there's enough of Vanya left in that brain-damaged meatsack to wonder what's going on.

And then the Asset swings open the barred metal door to the vault, and he sees Illya.

Now, Stick's known for years that the Asset thinks the fucking Russian bull who's currently trying to make his limbs work is his little brother. It's kind of cute. Useful, too. When Stick was in Siberia back in the day, threatening one of them was a great way to keep the other in line.

Never bothered to find out if _Pierce_ knew that, though, and it's likely their Russian Hydra buddies neglected to mention it, just like they neglected to hand over the notebook with their Soldiers. Stick's pretty sure he knows who's basement that's in, but he really doesn't give a shit. Not like he could ever read it himself, and It's no skin off his teeth if the Asset rips out Pierce's spine one of these days. The asshole would definitely deserve it.

Of course, Stick would prefer not to be there when it happens.

The Asset doesn't speak, which is just eerie. He storms the rest of the short distance to the chair, scything his metal hand into the throat of the hapless technician who was dumb enough to try and stop him. His handler runs at him with his gun up and aimed, shouting at him to stop, stand down, whatever he can think of.

"Hold your fire!" Pierce shouts, which makes the handler hesitate long enough to let the Asset reach behind himself and wrap his metal fingers around his hands on the gun. When the Asset closes his fist, the gun and his handler's bones are crushed together with a single, wet squelch. The Asset lets the howling man drop.

Everybody with a weapon has it up and aimed now; the Asset ignores all of them. He snaps the restraints around Illya's arms, then crouches, cupping Illya's face in his hands. "Illya. Illya! Can you hear me?" he says, low and urgent in Russian.

Illya makes a noise like he's trying to remember how to talk. He reaches for the Asset with violently shaking arms—Stick can hear his blood sloshing—then more-or-less falls against him. He grips him so desperately his joints creak with strain. "I'm sorry," he finally manages in Russian so slurred it barely sounds like a language. "I'm sorry. It hurts. Help me."

Illya's so fucked up he probably doesn't even know what he's saying, but it's obvious that somewhere in his hindbrain, he still thinks the man holding him is Vanya and his brother.

"What the fuck's going on?" Garrett says. He looks at Pierce. "Why aren't they both perforated already?"

"They're too useful for that," Pierce says absently. He looks at Brock and tilts his head at the two Soldiers, then strides towards the chair like he's heading into a boardroom. He gestures at the frightened Hydra agents still on their feet, parting them like Moses at the Red Sea. They move back with obvious reluctance, but it's Pierce, so they move.

Brock walks just behind Pierce's shoulder with his gun up and aimed, ready to protect him. Stick goes as well, to protect Brock.

The Asset looks over his shoulder, then bares his teeth and actually _growls_ , like a damn dog. "I did what you wanted," he snarls in English, " _I did what you wanted!_ Why did you hurt him?"

"Because _he_ didn't do what I wanted," Pierce says, as if he understands exactly what's going on. His heartbeat says otherwise, but Hydra's entire currency is lies. Pierce didn't get this far because he's not fast on his feet. "He refused to complete a very important mission." He crouches the way the Asset did to get their eyes even. "You know how vital our work is here. We're fighting a war. A war with everyone who would deny all those decent, hardworking people out there the peace and freedom they deserve. We can't win that war unless every soldier is ready and willing to carry out the orders they're given. This is the most important century Mankind has ever faced. Both of you are helping to shape it, but that requires your continued duty, honor and sacrifice. Above all, it requires your obedience. If we don't have that, we don't have anything."

"Then punish me!" the Asset shouts. "If he failed you, punish _me!_ That's the deal! If he does something wrong, I get punished! Not him! _And I did what you wanted!_ "

Pierce is definitely pissed that none of his pretty words made so much as a dent in the Asset's thick skull, but only Stick knows it. Pierce straightens with a crackle in his knees and spine. "There was no deal," he snaps. "There was never a deal. Whatever you think happened is wrong. You're wrong. If you fuck up, you get punished. End of story."

"That's not true! There was a deal!" the Asset insists loudly, but now there's uncertainty under the anger. He steps away from Illya so he can look at Pierce head on. "I made a deal. I made a deal to protect him."

"Are you lying to me now?" Pierce says. "I just told you, that never happened."

"I'm not lying!" There's real fear in the Asset's voice. Pierce just stands there calmly, his heart ticking along like a metronome now that he knows he's got the upper hand. Gaslighting someone with no memory is like taking candy from a baby, but Pierce is damn good at it. The Asset looks at Illya. "I'm not lying," he says. It's clear he wants confirmation.

Illya knows the Asset's not lying. But instead of answering he looks between Pierce and the man he's convinced is his brother. Illya's not firing on all cylinders, but Stick can still practically smell the moment he realizes that whatever choice he makes will be wrong.

"Please, sir, don't hurt him," Illya says to Pierce. "It's my fault. I failed you. Don't punish him. Please." He tightens his grip on the Asset's arm, like he's worried he'll be ripped away from him. "I'm sorry. I…I'll do it. I'll complete the mission. I didn't…I didn't mean to fail."

He absolutely meant to fail, considering that he straight up told his handler to go fuck himself. But the poor little bull doesn't remember what he did anymore. That might be funnier if it wasn't so pathetic.

Pierce isn't amused, since it's damn clear Illya cares a hell of a lot more about the Asset than Hydra's cause. He turns to the surviving technicians who are all cowering on Garrett's side of the room. "Wipe him again, then the Asset. And this time make sure it works. Then prep them both for cryo."

"S-sir?" one of the braver ones stammers. "It's…inadvisable to do two wipes in rapid succession like that. The, ah…." He looks at the Soldiers and swallows so hard Stick figures he could hear it on the moon. "Kuryakin doesn't heal as well as the Asset. We've already, ah, treated him to the fullest possible extent without risking brain damage. If we do it again before he rests—"

"Do it," Pierce snaps. "If you'd really treated him to _the fullest possible extent_ , we wouldn't be dealing with this bullshit now, would we? He can heal in cryo." Stick can't make out his expression when Pierce looks at Illya, but he'd bet it's colder than the cryostasis cylinders. "He's going to be in there a long time."

The Asset moves in front of Illya.

Brock gives another of his virtually silent smirks. Stick's glad someone is enjoying this, but he's bored and he'd rather not have to fight a pissed off, overprotective Super Soldier, thanks.

"Step aside, now," Pierce says. "That's an order."

The Asset looks conflicted, but he squares his shoulders and doesn't move.

"For fuck's sake," Garret gripes. He's just as bored and irritated as Stick. "We should kill him. Kill them both. Save us all a bunch of trouble."

Right, like that's going to happen. "Shut up," Stick snaps at him. He goes closer to the two Soldiers, keeping his sword low. "Illya!" he barks in Russian, "Your brother is sick. He doesn't know what he's doing." He ignores the Asset's cry of denial. "Are you going to let him betray your leader and commit treason? You remember what happened to your father when he made that choice, don't you?"

Illya doesn't respond, but his attention hones on Stick like a sword point. Perfect.

"Remember the shame he brought on your family? On _you?_ " Stick knows the trigger's working because Illya's heartbeat skyrockets. "Your brother is sick," Stick repeats. "You need to stop him before more people get hurt. Stop him now, or we'll send you to the Gulag. Just like your father."

He might admit that it's pretty fucking cruel, using Illya's love for his brother against him like this. Stick might even feel badly about it, if he were inclined to think that way at all.

But it's truly a thing of beauty, how well it works. Illya doesn't know what's just happened to him, or why it suddenly makes sense to take out his sudden, incandescent rage on his only ally in the room. The fight is short-lived and brutal. Illya's very, very good—Stick helped make sure of that—but even with his size and strength he's never won against the Asset. If this were a real battle, Illya would be dead in seconds.

But the Asset isn't fighting. His moves are purely defensive, not letting Illya land a hit without returning any of his own. Instead he lets Illya drive him back to the wall, pinning him against the stacked rows of empty safety deposit boxes. It's only a matter of time before Illya has both his massive hands around the Asset's throat.

It must make an interesting tableau: Illya holding the Asset against the wall by the neck, teeth bared and chest heaving with ersatz rage and very real anguish. On some level he knows he doesn't want to do this, but it's buried beneath more than a lifetime of Hydra's brainwashing.

The Asset has his hands on Illya's wrists, but all he's doing is making it a little harder for him to crush his throat. "It's all right, little brother," he says in Russian. "It's not your fault. I forgive you."

Illya sucks in a breath like he's been stabbed, then wrenches his hands away. He staggers back a couple steps, then sits hard on the floor. The chair left him in bad shape before Stick used the trigger, and without the artificially-kindled rage there's not much left to keep him upright. He looks at his hands, then at the Asset, then makes a tiny, miserable little noise. "I'm sorry!" he gasps, as uncomprehending of his actions as he's horrified by what he's done.

The Asset tries to go to him, but the second he twitches the Hydra goons have their guns up and aimed at him again. But it's the guns aimed at Illya that make the Asset slowly put his hands on his head and drop even more slowly to his knees. He does nothing as Brock wrenches his arms behind his back and cuffs them from elbow to wrist.

Two Hydra solders lift Illya by his arms and drag him back into the chair. The arm restraints are broken but Illya's not going anywhere. Stick can taste tears again. Maybe if Illya forgets enough he'll man up a bit.

Illya's face is turned towards the Asset until the helmet lowers to his head. When he starts screaming again the Asset echoes it like a dog listening to wolves.

Ward claps his little hands over his ears.

Stick doesn't bother to say any goodbyes. He just grabs the folder he got from Pierce and gets the hell out of there before his eardrums burst. Brock's not soft like the rest of them; He doesn't need any airy-fairy fare-thee-well bullshit. He knows there's no room for sentiment in a war. Elektra does too. Stick'll just have to make sure that Matt never forgets it either.

Too bad Illya and Vanya never learned it. Look what it cost them.

Love is the worst kind of sickness; it'll destroy you every single time.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is an AU, I took the liberty of assuming Brock is at least ten years younger than the actor who plays him, which is why he's only 20 here.
> 
> My headcanon for this 'verse is that Grant Ward's parents are Hydra, and allowed Hydra to give him the Serum in utero. They know about Garrett, and have given consent to his dubious mentoring (#Hydra's A+ Parenting). What they don't know is that Grant's going to snap and burn their house down in about six years.
> 
> [Tumblr over here!](http://taste-is-sweet.tumblr.com/). (And if you enjoy Alternate Universes, come check out [WhatIfAU](https://whatifau.tumblr.com/)!)


End file.
